


Friends Only (Asexual Awareness Week)

by totallyrandom



Series: LGBTQ Days [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ace Week, Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Lydia Martin, Asexual Awareness Week, Asexual Character, Asexual Lydia Martin, Asexuality, F/M, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Lydia-centric, Other, being a young woman in high school kind of sucks, using sex for power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyrandom/pseuds/totallyrandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Lydia, sex is kind of a chore, like doing the dishes. Not like washing moldy dishes that have been in the sink for a month, but more like when it’s the day after a party and you want mimosas with brunch but all the glasses are dirty so you have to wash them before you can start day drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends Only (Asexual Awareness Week)

**Author's Note:**

> Asexuality Awareness Week (Ace Week) is in October. The next one is October 19-25, 2015. See [asexualawarenessweek.com](http://asexualawarenessweek.com).

Lydia walks into Beacon Hills High one day and almost trips over her own feet. Stiles is so surprised that the queen of cool has stumbled that he almost doesn’t catch her in time. He steadies her and gives her a questioning look, which she pointedly ignores, splitting off from him toward her own locker. She spends the rest of the day trying not to be obvious about _not looking_  at the Asexuality Awareness Week posters all over school.

Lydia had always understood that being Beacon Hills High’s HBIC would require sacrifice. For her, that sacrifice is mostly sex. She doesn’t hate it, exactly. It doesn’t make her queasy, gross her out. She’s just _not interested_. All other things being equal she’d just, you know, rather not, thanks.

For Lydia, sex is kind of a chore, like doing the dishes. Not like washing moldy dishes that have been in the sink for a month, but more like when it’s the day after a party and you want mimosas with brunch but all the glasses are dirty so you have to wash them before you can start day drinking. Well, she assumes. Lydia has obviously never had to _actually_ wash dishes. But she’s seen jokes about it on tv, and she understands how biology works, so she thinks she has a fair enough idea of where sex falls on the dirty-dishes grossness scale for her. Anyway, that’s how sex in a relationship feels for her: a duty to get out of the way as quickly as possible. But, of course, if she’s going to do it at all, she’s sure as hell going to do it _well_. Because bad sex certainly won’t get her anywhere.

Lydia’s a bit disappointed in herself that it had taken her so long to realize she isn’t really into the _romantic_ part of a relationship, either. She would have figured it out sooner, she thinks, if it weren’t for the _particular guys_ in her dating life. She’d been assuming her disinterest was because Jackson’s such a self-centered douche and truly awful boyfriend. He’d hang all over her and demand her constant praise and attention for every. little. thing. he. did. He had to win against her at everything _and_ be praised for it. It was exhausting and disheartening. Jackson had never really _seen_ Lydia, never appreciated her intelligence or her skill, just fixated on her pretty packaging and the toe-curling things she can do to him. But she had gone along with it because it accomplished her goal.

It had been fine. For a while. Really, neither of them are particularly romantic, but from his end it’s just from being a fucking narcissist rather than being aromantic, she thinks. Still, it had been scary when he broke it off because _she hadn’t expected it_. There’d been no contingency plan in place. And because she’s obviously so much better than he ever deserved. So she’d been hurt and angry. And really disappointed in herself. But after a while she’d realized she’s better off. She’s more at home in her body and she has so much more time and emotional energy now that she’s not babysitting Jackson’s ego. She’s much better off without him. They’re _both_ better off, probably.

And then there was Stiles. Lydia never wanted to date Stiles because he came on _way_ too strong, didn’t take no-comment for an answer, insulted her by assuming the way to her heart is through the pocketbook. As if she could be _bought_ with high-end presents. All of those are completely valid reasons not to want someone. _Of course_ she wanted him to go the hell away. She had been so surprised when--through a combination of Stiles being in the right place at the right time, occasionally being a big damn hero, kind of chilling the hell out with his oppressively crushing crush, and being the first guy to really _see_ her--Stiles did eventually become Lydia’s friend. And she still doesn’t want to date him, but she does love him as a friend now. A really good friend. A ‘til-death-do-us-part friend.

She had tried to be a good friend to Jackson, even though he hadn’t known how to accept that. Her interest in Jackson had always been a mixture of aesthetics (seriously, those cheekbones!), appreciation for his athletic excellence, and--ok, yeah--her thirst for power. Their relationship had been a means to an end, sort of, but she’d also cared about him. Not as much as she cared for Allison, because Jackson was never as good at being a friend back as Allison was. But Lydia knew he’s mostly an asshole because he’s a hurt little boy. The arrangement had worked well enough for them, for a while. It certainly helped that she’d never had to be sappy and fake lovey-dovey with him. The relationship worked for many of the same reasons it would never, ever work for her and Stiles. Because Stiles had adored her loudly, effusively, _overwhelmingly_ , unwantedly.

She’d thought for a while that maybe she was gay, but Lydia realized that if she didn’t lose her heart to Allison, didn’t _want_ Allison, then clearly she must not be into women either. Because Allison? _Flawless_. They’re perfect as friends. Ok, sure, there had been a couple slip-ups. But Allison was her first _real_ friend--not just an admirer, a hanger-on, a minion. An equal. A friend. And, Disney princess that Allison is, she’d forgiven Lydia for messing up. Lydia hadn’t known at the time, not really, that Allison would be hurt by her kissing Scott. Lydia’d thought Allison would understand it was a power play and that it didn’t _mean_ anything. Because Lydia hadn’t understood sex and romance and how something like that could hurt someone. But she’d learned, analytically at least, and Lydia would never do that to a friend again. _Ever_.

Now Lydia is _awesome_ at friendship. She’s brilliant and loyal and organized and a natural leader. Sure, she’s a bossy friend, but she’s also a good one. Letting go of the pressure to be a _good girlfriend_ freed up so much time and space for being a _good friend_.

Lydia knew, though, that she needs arm candy to rule the school, though even that was becoming less important to her. Almost dying every week does cause a shift in priorities after a while, even for someone as focused as Lydia. But, still, drawing attention for _whom she’s with_ is much better than drawing attention for _what she is_. So she’d needed someone who could occupy a space in her life somewhere between being her friend and being her boyfriend. Someone who wouldn’t demand any real emotional energy from her. Because she’s busy with maintaining her grades and _not dying_.

When Jackson left, Lydia had been stunned, but not for long. He’d left her behind, like she’s nothing. Like she’d been holding him back. Like she hadn’t been propping him up! Like … No. Enough about that. So she’d looked for distractions. She taught herself Greek, curated Allison’s wardrobe, threw parties. It hadn’t been enough, though. Then she’d spied them: the twins. These guys had taken up space, demanded attention. She’d seen the way they’d looked at her--one with an appreciation for her obvious power, the other with lust in his eyes. _That one_ , she’d thought, might fill the hole Jackson had left behind. Not like _that_. Well, it had involved that, actually. Because how else does a beautiful, smart young woman get an egotistical pretty boy to do her bidding in high school? But, yes, she’d decided she could work with that. After Aiden had been Deputy Parrish, which worked even better for her. He is an officer of the law and doesn’t expect a physical relationship with her while she’s still in school, even though she’s already turned eighteen.

Her whatever-it-is with the honorable deputy means she can finish out her days in high school in the manner she’s accustomed and then start fresh, without other distractions other than occasionally fearing for her life. At MIT she’ll make friends who are at her level. And she’ll level with them up front: Her life is _friends only_. Because once she walks out of Beacon Hills, she’ll have a different kind of power.

**Author's Note:**

> There is now a Stiles-centric sequel to this story: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/4948909>.


End file.
